Let Go
by ChaosViper
Summary: Soul wants to take the next step and explore the more physical side of his relationship with Maka. However, Maka's own misgivings about intimacy are making that rather difficult. Dedicated to Marsh of Sleep and heavily inspired by her fic "Amplify".
1. Let Go

"No, Soul….nnnggghhh…ahh!"

Soul loved this newfound power he had over his meister. A simple nibble to the back of the neck or a lick behind the ear sent her into a flushing frenzy. He loved the expression on her face, the way she worked her bottom lip with her teeth, and the way she tried to stifle any vocalizations at his actions, even though near-silent whimpers and moans could still be heard as he worked his tongue over the area where earlobe met rosy cheek.

"Soul, stop…"

Without meeting his gaze, she used the flat of her palm against his chest to push him away, the length of her arm the only barrier between her shaking form and his. Soul could literally feel the heat coming off her form in waves, but he was not a heartless bastard. He would never take advantage of his best friend. That just wasn't cool at all. And as everyone knew, he was the epitome of cool, damn it. Cool guys just didn't do that sort of thing.

No. It had to be her choice. Why she thought she had to play this good girl routine every time he tried to get close to her, he would probably never know. Maka was more than just his best friend and partner, and she knew it. Though he'd never said it out loud, she knew how he felt about her. He made it painfully obvious every time he held her hand as they walked home from the academy. It was evident when he cooked for her because he knew just how to make her favorite foods. It was undeniable when he would play her favorite songs on the keyboard he'd bought just for her, even though it was hard for him to compose anything light and hearty when his soul was so dark and mysterious.

What he did know was that Maka was not a little girl anymore. He'd begun to notice it more and more, in the ways her body had matured since they'd first met, and in the way she acted around him on a daily basis. The tug at the bond called out to him, and it was like a tick in the back of his mind that wouldn't go away no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. They'd been living under the same roof for a long time, and she still blushed when he would immodestly walk around the house in his underwear or without a shirt. It was his home, too, damn it! He had every right to be comfortable.

He was going to make her see the rightness in their closeness. Even if it killed him.

He pushed past her hand and backed her into her bedroom. She wasn't expecting it and fell back onto the bed in surprise, and he quickly covered her form with his. His lips crashed down onto hers, causing her eyes to fly open and her arms to instinctively come between them to once again push him away. But this time he was prepared. Her hands were soon enveloped in his and moved above her head and out of the way, their lips never losing contact.

He let her come up for air and moved his attentions to her neck and jaw line. She realized she had been holding her breath when he released her lips with a resounding click and the air raced out of her lungs like derby steeds at the starting gate. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her oxygen-deprived body sought sustenance. Soul chuckled to himself at the inexperience and desperation of his meister, his tongue tracing and retracing the cavern of her collarbone and along the ridge of her clavicle where they were exposed by her low top.

"Breathe, Maka."

"Get off me, Soul!" she demanded, attempting to pull her upstretched wrists out of his grasp. She refused to admit she kind of liked the attention, even though kissing Soul was a long-played fantasy that had plagued her thoughts many times over the years. He was an inaccessible commodity that teased her with mere glimpses of the unknown, especially when he'd kept himself at such a distance physically in their relationship. He was like a scratched record that only played the same part of the song before it started skipping. She was anything but used to these new advances, and dare she pull a Crona on herself now, but she didn't know how to handle it. It was not in her to just roll over and take it like one of her dad's cheap floozies. What should she do in a situation like this?

She expected one of Soul's toothy grins to greet her as a result of her failed attempt to dislodge him from her person. Instead, she was baffled when his expression remained cool and inert, free from emotion or the trademark drool that always accompanied his personal triumph. Hoping this meant disinterest on his part, Maka's hips rose to throw him off balance and hopefully to the floor. Instead, he retaliated by pushing his own lower body into hers, forcing her down again and to release an inaudible gasp as a strange electric current traveled from her midsection to the rest of her body, resonating to her toes and to, dare she say it, other more sensitive places that tingled in the aftermath. He made the movement again, and Maka could swear she saw stars.

"Do you feel it, Maka? Do you feel it, right here?"

Maka once again felt something hard pushed into that one place that should not be mentioned. If her hands had been free to do so, she would have strangled the half gasp, half moan that escaped past her lips and stifled its declaration before its birth. But without said appendages to do so, the embarrassing utterance was released into the world, leaving no question to Soul how Maka felt about the actions being done to her body.

"You can't hide it from me, Maka. I can see into your soul just as easily as you can see into mine. This bond that connects us, it tells me things about you. It tells me that you feel things, too. That you like what I'm doing. That you want more than we have. Tell me I'm wrong, Maka! Make me believe it."

She refused to meet his gaze. Even with her cheeks aflame, body tingling, and heat growing, she resolved to fight him, even in this. Oh, Maka, why do you do this to me? To yourself? Then again, that's how Maka had always been. Denying herself the things she wanted so that others could be happy, as if her desires were somehow dirty and not important. Well, his first decision was to get her to throw that idea out the window. She would know that her feelings mattered, even if it meant he got Maka-chopped into oblivion.

"You've at least thought about it, haven't you? What it would be like to let me have you? Is that what keeps you up at night sometimes? It does, doesn't it? I can feel it through the bond."

Maka continued to avoid eye contact, but she was no longer trying to fight him on it. It was just like her to ignore any battle that could not be won outright, until her attacker either lost interest or gave up entirely. It was the same strategy she used when her father was around. Silence was key to victory, but unbeknownst to her, he knew what buttons to push to get her attention back on him.

"It's all right, you know. I feel the same way. I've always wanted to see what else you hide under that skirt besides teddy bear underwear. Don't look at me like that, it's true. I have those thoughts, too, now and then. You're not the only one who likes to catch a peek when you can. I feel the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. We're connected, remember?"

At least she was looking at him now. The blush was still evident on her face, and her entire body had gone rigid, but at least she wasn't ignoring him any longer. She still refused to utter a word or confirm his suspicions audibly, but he didn't need it to come from her mouth to hear her loud and clear. Her body and soul spoke to him in so many ways already that the convenience of speech would be a hindrance in his quest for knowledge. Words were unnecessary.

He rolled his hips into hers once again and smiled as she shivered and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She gripped the fingers that held hers above her head and sighed deeply in want. Her hips rose slightly in order to meet his and increase the pressure where she needed it most. Nope, completely unnecessary.

"Can I touch you, Maka? I promise, you'll be in control."

She gave no indication that she'd heard him as her eyes searched the room and looked at everything except his face. The rise and fall of her chest quickened, and he once again felt that tug in the back of his brain that meant the bond was trying to communicate an emotion. He knew exactly what it was, but he refused to continue without her consent. Her nervous demeanor told him everything he needed to know, but she eventually nodded slightly and gave in to his advances. That's right, Maka. This is how it is. How it should be. You need to feel loved, and god damn it, you will. I swear it as your weapon.

Her hands were released and their lips met once more, earning him another moan from his meister as he coaxed her tongue to come out and play. It took a moment for her to reciprocate, but when her moist tongue began shyly poking at his own in an effort to join in the dance, he inwardly puffed with pride. The feel of his sharp teeth playing her bottom lip and tongue made her tingle, and the spike in her soul's wavelength told him that she liked the attention from his pearly whites. He would have to remember that for later.

His hands came up to work free the buttons of her blouse, and another spike with a slightly different signal told him that she was unsure of his actions. She had yet to stop his fingers from working each button free and exposing more of her creamy skin to his waiting gaze, but at the same time, he still felt her resistance through the bond. It wasn't until he'd worked the last button free and attempted to move the fabric aside that she crossed her arms over the final barrier to her chest. Those flaming cheeks were back, and she once again made a conscious effort to avoid eye contact with the male above her. This just would not do. Not at all.

"Let me see, Maka."

She shook her head rapidly.

"Why?"

"Because…"

"Because why?"

"It's embarrassing…"

"What's there to be embarrassed about?"

"You'll laugh."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will."

"I promise you, I won't."

"But they're…small…"

"I knew that already, stupid. What's wrong with that?"

"I thought you didn't…" 

"Yeah, because you think too much. That's your problem. Always assuming everything. I won't laugh."

He forced her hands to the side and moved her blouse and bra out of the way to expose her to his eyes. She whimpered as an afterthought and he twined her fingers with his as both a way to comfort her and prevent her from further blocking his vision. It amused him to find that the blush extended down to her chest, making her tips seem rosy and ripe for the taking. He didn't know why on Earth she should feel so self conscious. Perhaps all those comments of "tiny tits" and "flat chest" had done her more of an injustice than he'd first realized.

"You're perfect, Maka. There's absolutely nothing wrong with you."

To prove his point, he weighted one of the enticing globes with his hand, squeezing gently and plucking at the nipple in such a way as to elicit a small gasp from her. She wriggled beneath him, unsure how to deal with the increased pressure in her lower belly at his touch. With the addition of his tongue at her tip, she squeaked in response and gripped his shoulders as an anchor, fisting his shirt in her fingers and tugging slightly. When he continued to feed on the first breast and moved his hand to fondle the other, she turned to putty beneath him.

"Soul…"

His name passing her lips was the only encouragement he needed to move forward. His tongue trailed a searing path down her midsection, pausing to dip into her navel and taste the salty skin surrounding it. She barely noticed when he dragged her skirt down her hips and threw it to the floor beside the bed. She became more aware of him pushing her knees to the side and kneeling between them. He got her complete attention when his kisses reached the waistband of her pink panties, where he took the bow between his teeth and slightly tugged at the fabric. His hands ran up and down her thighs and legs, coming closer and closer to operation central with each pass of fingers and nails across hypersensitive skin.

"Soul, stop…I…"

"It's right here, isn't it?" he asked, stroking her through the fabric. The jolt in the bond answered his question, but he decided to pry further. "The problem is here, right? Is this where you want me most?"

"Soul, please…"

"Tell me, Maka. I want to hear you say it."

"But…it's…Soul!..."

He had to hold her hips down when he moved his ministrations to her clit. The shouting of his name did nothing to squelch the increase in his ego at the sight. Even through the quickly soaking fabric of her underwear, he could tell that averting his fingers to that particular button was a good idea. She couldn't hide from him anymore. All her emotions and desires were laid out plainly like cards on a table, just as she was before him on the bed. They both knew what she wanted, but he wanted to hear it from her directly. She had the worst habit of keeping the best part of herself locked away and out of sight, and he'd be damned if he let her keep it hidden anymore.

"It's a pretty serious problem down here, isn't it, Maka?" He circled her clit with his finger again, refusing to touch it directly as he had before, and she jumped and shrieked at the action. Her hips rose off the bed once again, held there in position only by the tension coursing through her body. Her hands reached for his head and shoulders only to be met by her own skin and empty sheets. Gripping the covers beneath her did nothing to relieve the need, and his finger's continued dance around her clit was nearly driving her batshit crazy.

"Soul!" They were both surprised at the sheer need expressed in her voice. "I can't…please, Soul! Stop…it…no…Sooouu-aaumph!" She shoved her arm in her mouth to muffle her cry when he stroked his fingernail directly against that button through her underwear. Even without direct contact to her skin, Soul could tell she was very close to the edge. He knew this was torture for her, but he swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to get her to admit what she wanted. There's nothing wrong with taking what you need, Maka, he thought to himself. Please, let go. You would enjoy this so much.

"I can help you, Maka. I can make it all better. Tell me what you want me to do."

Her entire body was a shivering, quaking mess. "Soul, please…just…don't make me say it, Soul, please!"

"You have to, Maka. Otherwise, I'll stop right here." Please say it, Maka.

"No! Please don't!" She reached for him, but he pulled away just out of reach. He could hardly contain himself at her sobbing. "Soul, please…I can't…it's dirty!"

Is that it, then?

"There's nothing dirty about this, Maka."

Without warning, he ripped her panties down her legs and shoved her thighs apart. She gasped and tried to close her legs against the sudden invasion, but his physical strength far exceeded her own. He pulled her down the bed and closer to his knees, then lifted her lower body up and supported the backs of her knees on his shoulders. She tried to pull away from him, but his grip on her thighs held steadfast. She could not escape. He wouldn't let her.

"There's nothing wrong with this. There's nothing wrong with _us_! There's nothing impure about what we're doing! I'm not your father, and you're not your mother! We won't end up like that, do you hear me, Maka? I love you, damn it!"

He licked her inner thighs and splayed openmouthed kisses everywhere but on her center. She twisted and cried beneath him, but her soul through the bond told him why. The vibe had completely changed, and he could feel her happiness and confusion coming through loud and clear, like a bellow at the door to his heart. She felt the same way. She loved him so much it hurt, but she wasn't ready to tell him yet. She was too afraid. After all she'd been through, with her parents' divorce and the separation, coupled with the emotions he was now reading, he finally understood the silence. He wouldn't push her anymore.

"I'm going to love you, Maka. Like a man is supposed to love a woman. We'll get to the real stuff later. For now, let me know how this feels."

Wrapping his arms around her upper thighs and using his thumbs to spread her lower lips wide, he took no time getting directly to her pleasure center. His tongue circled her clit over and over, pressing up beneath the hood and using his tongue to play with the tip of it directly. He loosened his grip just enough to fondle her entrance with one finger, pushing the digit inside and curling it upward. She shrieked and squealed at his actions, tossing her head back and forth in sheer abandon. When he included the addition of a second finger and began sucking on her clit, she nearly screamed and tried to crawl away, body shaking and toes curled as the dam broke and her orgasm washed over her like a raging torrent set free. His name tore from her mouth and became the only word in her vocabulary until the waves subsided and the thought to breathe caught up with her again.

Soul quickly stripped out of his own clothing, giving his meister time to recover before he once again joined her on the bed. He had become erect and ready long ago, and it became painstakingly obvious to Maka his intentions when he set her in his lap facing him, her legs dangling outside his own strong, muscular thighs. His hardness poked at her center, and it sent another wave of shivers through her form in anticipation of what was to come.

"Soul, I'm scared." This open admission from her came as no surprise to him, and as a result he pulled her in for a deep, passionate kiss that sent his own sparks flying. He reached between them and fondled her clit again with the pad of his thumb. Her arms flew around his neck as an anchor, nails leaving nasty scrapes along his back as she rode his hand to near completion. But he didn't let her finish.

"Me too, Maka. Even cool guys get scared sometimes. Will you help me?"

Looking into his eyes, she nodded her compliance. Raising herself from him slightly, he rubbed against her a few times for good measure, causing her to wrap her arms around his neck and bury her face into his shoulder. He positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside until the tip was engulfed in her warmth. From this point, he wanted her to take the initiative.

"It's in a little bit, Maka. Take your time." He dislodged her from his shoulders to encourage her to take control, using his outstretched arms as a backrest on which she could get comfortable. She couldn't help but blush as she gripped him in her fingers and slightly lowered herself further onto his shaft. A bit of blood was seen, but only a little as she ignored the pain and sank further down until she had his entire length inside her. All movement stopped as she adjusted to his invasion. Honestly, it didn't hurt as much as she had expected it to. Years of strenuous fighting and combat had seen to the little problem of her hymen. It still took her inner walls a moment to stop their spasming, but once it did, she experimented with tightening and clenching herself around Little Soul until Big Soul groaned in approval. He wrapped his arms around her and began to move inside her.

Neither meister nor weapon lasted very long, in the grand scheme of things. Maka's sensitivity had already been heightened by their earlier activities, so when she once again screamed his name to the heavens in wild abandon, gripping him tightly in multiple senses of the word, Soul wasn't very far behind. Cool guys were supposed to have much better stamina, but he felt that his excuse of just not being able to help himself where Maka was concerned would hold its own any day. She was his meister, after all, and knew him better than any other person could. Her current knowledge of him had been expanded quite a bit following certain activities, he chuckled to himself afterward.

Cool guys weren't supposed to be cuddlers, either, but Maka's death grip on his midriff as she slept would put the strength of any experienced body builder to shame. Frankly, he didn't have the heart or the energy to undertake the acrobatics it would take to dislodge her from his being. And it wasn't like he despised lying next to her after hot, passionate sex, the smell of their activities still fresh in the air, and the sound of her slow and steady breathing the only thing to be heard above the whirr of the fan overhead.

Quite the contrary. He could certainly get used to this. Most definitely, in fact.


	2. Silver Heart part 1

She didn't want to dwell on what awaited her at home. Or rather, what didn't happen to be there. What hadn't been present for quite some time. It wasn't particularly easy to ignore, but at least allowing her mind to wander to more artificial and mundane things for a while saved her heart a bit of ache.

She never realized how the sight of an empty apartment could cause such a deep and sheathing pain inside. Save for sparse strands of cat fur that covered every inch of exposed furniture and carpet, there was no indication that anyone besides herself even occupied the residence. It was unsettlingly clean. Perhaps too much so.

She stood before the closed door to his room, hand centimeters from the knob and eyes glued to the floor. Why was she shaking? When did the knot in her throat get so large? Why was it getting increasingly harder to breathe? How many mental pathways could she trace in the wood grain of the door before getting dizzy?

No time for this. She pushed passed the invisible hands holding her in place and flung the door open wide. It was dark, but filtered moonlight through the curtains provided sufficient illumination. Looking around, the familiar room and items in various stages of disarray were oddly comforting. This was how she remembered it. Ordered chaos. She missed the sight of empty soda cans, an unmade bed, and his underwear sticking messily out of a dresser drawer.

Her body met cold, dank sheets with a flop as she came down face first. The bed squeaked loudly in defiance. She couldn't help the tears that escaped her sleep-deprived eyes. Oh God…it still smelled like him. Somehow, she wished it didn't.

Even in her dreams, the one she sought stayed at least an arm's breadth away and out of reach. There he stood, mere inches away with back turned and form stock still and silent. She ran, legs straining to move toward him and arms reaching out to grab his shirt, arm, wrist, hair, anything that would get his attention. Even with legs pumping and lungs gasping for much-needed air, he continued to get further and further away with every advancing step she took in his direction. What a cruel game this was. What an unimaginable torture.

She cried out to him in her mind. Screaming into the empty void until her throat became raw and raspy. Little good it did. He couldn't hear her or even feel her presence. Dear God, please listen! Hear the sound of my voice and respond! Please, let me know I'm not alone!

He had stopped for a moment. His back was still facing her, but his head had lifted and was swiveling this way and that as if he'd heard something. Yes, I'm here! Please, Soul, notice me! Her legs had found a newfound strength and strained to carry her to him. Despite the screaming in her thighs and the weighted lead on her back, she raced in his direction. Yes, he'd seen her! She was going to make it.

She stopped. Soul wasn't alone. What was he doing? Couldn't he see how close she was, that she was right there? There was someone else with him. Who was that woman? Most importantly…why was he smiling? Soul, get your hands off of her!

"He can't hear you, you know."

The image disappeared. That voice. It had come from nowhere and everywhere at once. It sent shivers down her spine and throughout her entire body. Maka recognized it immediately, but for lack of an explanation she could not figure out who the voice belonged to. It was one she knew most intimately, of that she was certain. But where had she heard it before? Why did it now…?

Out of the shadows he stepped. The once-little Oni was not so little anymore. He danced and swayed to a tune only he could hear. Fingers snapping and leather dress shoes swishing against a nonexistent floor. The steady crack of digits kept tempo without a beat like the deafening click of a metronome in a silent hall. She nearly laughed despite her questioning terror. The sight of a dark fedora upon his head was only slightly less comical then the holes made in it to make room for his horns.

"Te-ni-shi-te-wa-u-shi-nat-te… te-ni-shi-te-wa-u-shi-nat-te…"

A sudden foot tapping was quickly accompanied by the removal of the hat and a gentlemanly bow in her direction. However, the grin upon the creature's face was just as intimidating ever.

"Nothing like a groovy song and dance to lift your spirits, eh? Hello there, dearie. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? Why such a face? Have you nothing to say to me after all this time? I'm hurt, really."

She watched with mouth agape as he removed a cigar from a wallet hidden within his front pants pocket. Sparks igniting from his fingertips lit the object in question, and after a few hefty puffs of smoke from his nostrils, his face became enshrouded in a dirty frame that only intensified the effect his demonic countenance had on the room's visage.

When had the room appeared? Tiled ceramic flooring beneath her feet. Alabaster columns with jagged floral inlays ingrained into the stone. White sheen curtains covering every square inch of wall space. A glistening glass chandelier hanging from the slanted ceiling. A pure white grand piano on which the demon leaned for vertical support. A single twin bed with white feather comforter and silken sheets beneath. And just as in the black room, only a single door and no windows to be seen. All of these things appearing seemingly out of nowhere and with no introduction to speak of.

The red jester chuckled to himself eerily.

"You must be wondering to yourself what on Earth I'm doing here. And what "here" even is, for that matter. I can say with all sincerity that I have absolutely no idea. Your guess is as good as mine."

Another stream of smoke poured from his nostrils, and he smirked at the cough she attempted to hide despite the secondhand toxins entering her throat and lungs. He rudely flicked the ashes onto the clean, untouched floor and crossed one stubby arm over his chest defiantly, while the other still offering support on the piano began pounding away its digits randomly onto the keys.

"From what I can gather, we're in a world of your making now. How I managed to get here is beyond my power of perception. The last thing I remember was your little sweetie pie and his incessant thoughts of saving the world and whatnot. Your influence, I presume. I'm used to hearing your static every now and then through the link during resonance and such, but lately the interference has been…how should I put it…a bit stronger than usual? Again, all your doing, I imagine."

Maka's faced revealed a questioning expression, and the crimson ogre slapped his knee and guffawed in retaliation. His giggles hit her to the very core, and she couldn't put a stop to the fuming inside. What the hell was the bastard going on about?

"Stop laughing!"

Her reaction to his teasing surprised even her. He snubbed her efforts to shut him up completely by resorting to a quieter chuckle under his breath, hand held in front of his face to resist intensifying his apparent glee at her angry retort. With fists clenched and feet planted firmly on the ground, she chose to ignore the obvious crack in her voice as she'd screamed. She refused to let him see her tears. Not even one. That required refusing to meet his taunting gaze.

"I don't…understand…what you mean."

The Oni cackled again.

"Oh my, my, my…you really have no idea, do you? But then again, how would you?…Well this just makes things a little awkward then, doesn't it? Especially for little old me."

The scarlet imp amused himself by messing with the different lighting settings this new ivory room afforded. He quickly discovered that he could manipulate the brightness of the various lamps and candelabra scattered about by adjusting the switches on the wall mechanism to the right of the piano's keys. Maka noticed that he very appropriately preferred the low illumination settings with a few scattered beams aglow to the maximum setting of each switch in the upright position. Not surprising in the least. However, this discovery did nothing to curb her impatience.

With a defeated sigh, she muttered, "Will you just get on with it?"

The expression that crossed the Oni's face in that moment frightened her. Especially since he had suddenly started drooling out of the corner of his gaping mouth.

"Very well then, dear one. The reason I am not surprised to find myself in this predicament here is because frankly you and the Evans boy no longer bother fortifying those walls intended to keep me out. I am a product of Soul's own darker wavelength ingrained with the corrupting nature of the black blood. When the two of you resonate, it is to be expected that your minds will also mingle. Start combining both mind and body rather consistently and the limits of my boundaries start to diminish drastically. Get the picture, babe?"

The brazen goblin could not hide his amusement at the sudden inflammation engulfing Maka's features. She attempted to flee from the excruciating situation by quickly backing up toward the only visible means of escape, but to her horror the door had suddenly ceased to exist in the wall any longer. The heated gaze of the minute devil only intensified as a result.

"Well look at that. It seems as if Soul decided to shut off his part of the connection from wherever he is in the world right now. I'd love for that door to come back, you know. Nothing I can do about it, unfortunately. Really is quite a shame. It appears so infrequently these days. That must be why you created this room in the first place, am I right? Provide a comfortable atmosphere for the two of you to be together when he's away? How bittersweet this is."

Maka slowly sank to the floor. She could no longer hold back the salty tears from escaping her eyes. This unholy monster, this invasive cur, how dare he mock her most private thoughts? All of her secrets, all of her internal fantasies, to her horror she realized that he could see all of them. Each moment that she and Soul spent in their own unseen sanctuary. He bore witness to each and every instance of it. There was nothing that could remain hidden from this creature's perusal.

He took another puff from his cigar and chortled defiantly. This girl never ceased to amuse him, despite her dull and tedious nature most of the time.

"Oh come now, dear, it's not so bad. Just as the black blood is now a part of Soul's physical body, so am I to his mental state. It's really not that surprising, is it? Certainly you didn't forget about my presence whenever you've met within the walls of the black room? It really was a sweet gesture to create a place outside of himself for the two of you to rendezvous. I don't blame you for trying. But did you really think he would find this place appealing? Come now, sweetie, you should know us better than that."

Dare she imagine he sounded a bit pitying of her predicament? No, that would be giving the diminutive weasel way too much credit.

"Soul is a busy Death Scythe now. It's going to take a lot more than an out-of-tune piano and a soft bed to distract him from his duties. Especially when he's so far out of range. Brazil, was it?"

Maka had managed to cease her crying momentarily, but at the sudden mention of the distance between herself and her former weapon, new tears sprang forth from the well of her damaged heart. The times spent in the arms and bed of the one she loved most in the world had become few and far between. Whenever he did manage to return home from a mission after many weeks of unbearable absence, he was usually too exhausted and spent to afford any free time outside of catching up on some much-needed sleep. She knew that he sincerely tried to make his visits home all about her and her needs. She also wasn't stupid – it certainly was not easy for him. The task of doing everything for someone else's sake was selfless and difficult. That was partially why she'd created this version of his internal room in the first place.

"You'll just have to learn to face it. He's not all yours anymore, little miss. You've got to share him with the rest of the world now." He shrugged. "Such is the existence of a dutiful Death Scythe, I suppose."

Maka suddenly felt the presence of a person standing over her. Ready to shove the crude fiend away and demand that he leave her be, the thought was stifled before its execution as familiar crimson eyes met her own in stark amusement. The familiar black suit and red tie combination had been replaced with one better suited to the current upholstery. Maka had to admit that he looked rather dashing in a white tuxedo. The gold sash around his neck would also be a nice touch, indeed, if it were actually the real Soul wearing it.

The imposter lowered himself to meet her gaze and grinned intoxicatingly. Hands meeting the wall above her head and muscular arms trapping her in successfully, the nimble fingers of one appendage came forth to affectionately cup her chin in its enclosing palm.

"Fortunately for you, my dear, I have no other prior engagements to speak of."

The hand intended to slap him the hell away was quickly caught by the one of his not previously occupied with framing her small face. His smile was not intended, and not taken, as an act of comfort, but either way it caused her throat to sink into the cavity of her chest as if it were the real thing.

"I am a part of Soul. In a sense, I am Soul. I know explicitly everything it takes to please you, Maka." The sound of her name in that voice she loved surprised her almost as much as the current situation.

"I know in detail every place he touches you that leaves you clawing his back in rapturous agony. Why not give in this once and take what you know you need, hmm? I promise you that it will be worth your while."

She was intent on protesting. Swore to it, in fact. But somehow, the moment those lips met hers in a forceful crash of thunder that had her toes tingling in sweet surrender, the thought completely escaped her primary string of consciousness as quickly as it had been borne.

These were Soul's lips and tongue dancing with hers. These were Soul's hands squeezing her breasts together and making her moan out loud despite herself. This was real wetness gathering at the place that defined her as a woman and soaking her undergarments in obvious approval. And when he reached inside and touched her in that heavenly place, Maka's resistance unfurled like a red carpet before a queen, and she lost herself to being loved by Soul-who-was-not-Soul. And damn herself to fucking hell, but she enjoyed it.


	3. Silver Heart part 2

Her teeth clenched against the awful and wonderful sensations elicited from her body. She fought back the urge to moan, whimper, cry out; let out any sort of vocalization that confirmed to her would-be lover that she enjoyed his administrations. Hands grazed slowly over all the places women long to be touched. To her eyes, the man looked like her partner and life companion. In her heart, she knew his appearance was only a facade, a sham. He caressed her sides and spoke sweet nothings into her ear, just as Soul had done when they united in her bed. The same touches and words from this monster, however, sent erratic shivers up and down her spine just the same.

It was this fact specifically that scared her to the point of insensibility. He wasn't Soul. At least, not in the sense that he was currently joined together with Soul as part of the same personality. The demon had somehow separated himself from Soul's consciousness and manifested here, in her private sanctuary. He took every advantage of the fact that she didn't seem able to resist his advances. Not when he came to her looking and sounding like the man she loved most in the world.

Maka Albarn should know better. The brightest student in all of Shibusen should easily be able to recognize a fake when one presents itself. But loneliness and frustration are cruel mistresses, too, and when the real Soul couldn't even spare her a minute of his time, it became far too easy for Soul-who-is-not-Soul to take advantage of that weakness. Her head and her heart knew all too well that the man in her mind was nothing more than a dark entity out for revenge. Her body, however, was not so easily convinced.

He liked to take her over the piano, fingers crashing against keys like gnashing teeth, naked form bent over the bench and leaving nothing to the imagination. He would enter from behind, slowly and agonizingly hard as what looked like Soul's cock disappeared between her upturned thighs. With the right amount of effort, he could elicit entire symphonies from her cries of pleasure. Fingers playing with her breasts, a clawed hand caressing her button, and an exclamation of "Come hard for me, Maka" in his host's voice ensured that she did exactly as commanded. This time was no exception.

"Does it feel divine, Maka?" the mongrel asked in his own voice with a laugh. "I thought you might enjoy creating a concert with me. You're such a talent, my dear."

Picking up her spent body bridal style, he moved them to the bed. The same one she had created specifically for Soul upon his departure to Brazil. Beginning to panic, her insides tied themselves into knots. No. This wasn't right. She hadn't even slept here with Soul yet. It was bad enough that they had defiled the piano on multiple occasions. Now the demon wanted to mimic his host in bed with her. No. It was supposed to be for Soul, not this creature!

"Don't resist me, dearie," he said in his own gruff voice. Hands that had once resembled her weapons 'suddenly sprouted dark claws, running themselves up her sides, over her breasts, teasing the nipples, and provoking a gasp to pass her lips. Bony knees crushed her legs beneath them, and the teeth in his mouth at once grew larger and a far cry more menacing than before. Suddenly, the monster above her had become somewhat of a demon/Soul hybrid that chilled her to the very core.

"Why are you so worried about betraying Soul? Have you forgotten that we are the same? I am his baser instincts incarnate. His darkest desires. Everything he knows about you, I know the same. And I know exactly how to get what I want from you, dear princess."

The size of his grin grew tenfold, and the heat of his gaze burned her soul to the core.

"Besides, Maka, this is your mind, after all. If you really wanted to deny me, it would be an easy task. Push me away. Go on. Do it."

He melted back into Soul again, and their lips met in a crash of lightning that sent her heart reeling. The clawed hands still present, the demon learned something very new and valuable in that moment: Maka's skin shivered beneath the light, tickling touches left in their wake. Her body trembled, skin flushed and covered in goosebumps as one hand moved to fondle her breast, the other delving lower to play with the sensitive skin of her womanhood.

She liked his claws. She liked them a lot. And she wasn't fighting back. Instead, she sank into the kiss, swallowing hard in the back of her throat as he chuckled, then shoved his tongue and fingers into their respective openings.

"You like it rough, don't you, Maka?" he questioned with a defiant sneer against her lips. She whimpered softly and began grinding against his clawed fingers to the hilt. "You liked it this way last time, as well, if I recall."

Positioning himself at her opening, Maka gasped loudly as he entered her in one swift motion. Her hands rushed to her mouth, silencing the scream attempting to escape.

"Let's make beautiful music, shall we? Just like Soul is surely doing right now, with a nice foreign woman of his very own. Don't you think so, too, Maka? I wonder what kind of tune they're playing?"

He began thrusting deeper, at a pace that she felt would definitely rip her apart. It was all she could do to keep the tears at bay.

* * *

Six thousand miles would be a far stretch for any imagination. For him, it was sheer torture to be out of range of her soul's wavelength for such a long period of time. St. Louis to Death Valley be damned, at least it was still possible for some communication at nearly opposite ends of the same continent. Separated by at least that and an ocean, however, and those little trysts in his head became rather impossible.

He laughed out loud at the notion of the link having any type of comparison to a radio. Maybe her "reception" was more advanced than his own, because if her ability to detect souls was any indication, he could feel the impatient poking behind his brain at times even when he wasn't able to respond. Being stationed in the far south of Rio de Janeiro didn't help that problem, either. He wanted nothing more than to drop the bullet and engage in more _worthwhile _activities whenever that slight fluttering tickle began in the back of his consciousness. However, it required an almost steel-like determination to ignore the sensation and wave it away with the proverbial flip of a hand. The only emotional feedback he received at those times was her indignation and disappointment that manifested as a guilty sickness in his own stomach, eliminating any kind of appetite he might have.

It was hard enough to find a private moment amidst this current chaos of lights and noise. It was even worse when his fucking job prolonged this fact indefinitely.

The carnival was in full swing. He could hear it quite clearly even a few blocks over. This annual Rio tradition sent a steady stream of samba music wafting forth from various instruments as the passing parade sauntered down the street, making it nearly impossible for his musically-inclined self to resist walking without a matching tap to his steps. Or maybe it was a twitch. He had no idea. The market was still overcrowded. Even after dusk, vendors were still selling their wares, and greedy tourists partook of anything that was offered them at a decent price. Or even if it wasn't. Either way, a feathered blue dress complete with butterfly wings equivalently priced at over 300 American dollars was just a bit too much for a weapon of his particular tastes. Still, imagining Maka in any one of these items sent his heart to start fluttering inside his chest.

"Você quer para comprar o vestido?" The vendor had noticed his stance as an invitation to attempt selling something.

"Um…sorry?" He suddenly realized he hadn't brought his translation book with him. Or paid attention during the brief language lesson Spirit had attempted to give him before he'd left on this excursion.

"Você quer?"

"Eerrr….no me gusta."

"Quê!"

"Yo quiero Taco Bell, dude. I don't understand you!"

Soul swiftly dodged the tambourines aimed directly at his head. and continued the trek back to his hotel.

The carnival had moved all over the place. In the streets and squares, bars, clubs and all other venues, taking over the entire city of Rio, culminating in a festival the likes of which he had never witnessed before. Even outside his hotel, he was surrounded by the dancing, music, shouting, and merrymaking of a cultural experience he only wished he could appreciate to the fullest. To these people, it was a celebration of life. It provided a means for families and friends to come together and revel in the sights and sounds of their culture, and take advantage of each others' company as they danced and sang the night away. He wondered if Maka would enjoy this, and dance with him like so many of the couples were dancing. He watched as one pair in particular was locked in a passionate embrace beneath the fireworks. He tried to gulp, but for some reason the knot in his throat prevented it.

Stealing away from the balcony and latching the door tightly behind him, the fluttery embrace of cool sheets and a soft pillow were a welcome change from the muggy and humid atmosphere of the Rio evening. The bed was comfortable and inviting as deluxe accommodations go, but missing the crucial touch of _Esencia de Maka _required to ensure he had a restful night's sleep. Then again, he hadn't had one of those for quite some time, and unless she came sauntering through the door with that determined look on her face in the next five minutes, he assumed it would be yet another fitful attempt at slumber. Only one amidst so many others.

Unless he took the initiative. Maybe it was the dull music still playing merrily outside. Or the faint sound of shouting and singing being carried over the wind and into his ears through tiny, miniscule openings in the balcony door. He didn't know what suddenly came over him in that moment. All he knew was that he wanted to be near her. It couldn't wait anymore. He'd had to push her aside, telltale exclamations of "not now" or "I'm busy" ringing solidly in his head each time she'd tried to connect with him. And he'd ignored her. That was definitely, undoubtedly not cool at all.

What the hell kind of lover was he?

He needed concentration. At this distance, it would take every bit of it he could muster. He'd never attempted to seek her out on his own before. Usually, it was by her own invitation that they were able to meet in the two respective rooms, whether White or Black. Without her initiating Resonance and using her uncanny ability to detect his soul, locating his meister on another continent would be like identifying one boat afloat on the waves of the Pacific Ocean.

Please, he thought, make this connection work. I've got a lot of making up to do. It's got to start now. I need to see her again.

Soul searched blindly through a sea of uninteresting pastels and sparkling stars for a trace of his meister's soul. He still wasn't used to the appearance of the world between their bodies. At first glance, it appeared to be a dark and gloomy void. Shadows played together peacefully, and a current of wafting wavelengths from various people were like mini seas whisking him back and forth along the path to Maka's. He couldn't detect the nature of these souls like Maka, but their general disinterest and inability to detect his presence made sifting through some of the most robust ones a much easier task

Once he could feel the edge of her wavelength graze his own, his soul snapped around like a snake on the trail of its prey. Out of nothing, he could suddenly feel her. Maka! Her spirit was hot and invigorating. He could feel it pulsing and trembling, like a beacon sent out to guide him. Her wavelength was screaming his name, over and over, and he just couldn't prevent himself from salivating at the mouth. What the hell was going on? Where was this sense of need coming from? And why was it so sporadic?

He would follow her beacon a short distance, and then it would spike, jumping here and there, making it nearly impossible to determine her precise location. He attempted to reach out and pull her wavelength to him, like empty hands searching blindly for a light switch in the dark. She was getting louder and louder. The link was singing with every spike and shake of her soul, and he followed it frantically, trailing and wheeling until he literally hit the White door with his face.

He wasn't aware that his soul could be hurt. Let alone run itself into a door. Either way, the link was screaming at him that he'd finally arrived. Before him was a solid white-painted door, and on the other side, his ears detected the uncanny cries and exclamations of his meister. What the hell? Was this distress? No. It was something else…

He palmed the doorknob and attempted to push through, but soon discovered that it was locked form the inside. He couldn't open it. Her voice was getting louder, and he found himself starting to panic.

"Maka! Maka, are you there? It's me! Open up!" He pounded on the wood with his fists, once again attempting the knob, but still there was no indication that she'd heard him. He could definitely hear her on the other side. But she wasn't coming to the door.

Then he heard his name. In something almost like a scream, Maka shouted for him. Once. Twice. After the third time, he resolved that there was definitely something wrong. And Maka needed him. Right now.

"Maka!" He slammed his body into the door, but it held steadfast. Again and again he pushed with all his might, but it wouldn't budge at all. He tried to give it one hard kick, but a large, red hand melting away from the wood of the door put a stop to his attack. It grabbed that leg, and flung him away from the door, out into the void between their bodies. A low, guttural laugh engulfed his form, shoving him into the floor of space. If his soul had bones, they'd be breaking.

She screamed again. With a shout, he clawed his way out of a sea of red and made his way back to the door, despite gravity's unyielding hold on his body. He placed his hand on the grain, then pulled it away with a start. It was stained with blood.

"Maka!" he shouted. "Let me in!" Silence.

"Maka, answer me!"

The doorknob shook within his grasp, and he could feel the pull from the other side as Maka, or someone, attempted to turn the knob against some great resistance. The entire door quaked. Using all of his strength, he helped her release the knob, and with a sudden jerk, the door swung open and he fell forward into the room.

He was a bit dazed and confused at first to see himself having sex with Maka on the bed she'd imagined just for him. She was on her back below him, and as he took her hard and fast, she emitted a plethora of gasps and squeals as she held on to the headboard for dear life. Her knuckles were white with the effort, and dark purple bruises covered every visible inch of her body. Unless he was having an out-of-body-out-of-soul experience, there was no logical reason why he should be fucking her.

This wasn't some fabrication of her imagination she'd created in his absence. It became increasingly clear when the other him turned to meet his gaze, a bloody, toothy grin the only indication the doppelganger knew of his presence. This other him was taking advantage of his meister in her own private space. She didn't seem to realize his real self was even there. However, when her eyes met his suddenly from across the room, she mouthed his name and attempted to sit up, one part horror and the other part disbelief etching themselves into her features.

"Soul!"

The Other Soul would have none of that. Lifting her hips off the bed, he forced her back down, pounding into her again and again, increasing his thrusts as he grinned back at the man still lying disheveled on the floor. Maka's cries reached his ears, and it wasn't him eliciting them from her form. This explained why the demon hadn't been present in the Black Room for some time. The bastard had somehow made his way here. Soul hurried to stand, but something continued to hold him down.

"Hello, Soul," the double exclaimed with a very maniacal laugh. "Come to join in the dance?"

Soul managed to haphazardly stagger to one knee. "Fucker! What the god damn _hell_ are you doing to Maka? Get away from her!"

Pandora's beast giggled somewhat like a little schoolgirl and thrust again. Maka was taken by surprise and couldn't stop the gasp brought forth from the movement.

"Now why would I do a thing like that? She seems to be enjoying herself, after all." As an afterthought, the monster leaned forward and brought her knees to meet her chest before he continued thrusting, providing Soul with a front row seat to the effects such activities were having on her body down below. She was extremely wet.

"Fucking bastard! You came to her looking like me! It's not her fault!"

The demon cackled. "That's where you're wrong, Soul. She's come to me like this many times. You've been neglectful, haven't you, my boy?" He turned his head to look again at Maka. Horrified, she tried to push him away. But once again, the devil had control of her body and began playing it like a fine-tuned instrument.

"S-Sooouul..."

Soul regained enough control of his body in order to leap forward and attempt a carefully-timed swing at the demon's face. However, his movements were still too sluggish, and the fiend was able to avoid it by disappearing in a puff of silver smoke and wretched guffaws.

Immediately realizing the tormentor was gone and she'd been released, Maka went into defense mode and curled into a ball on the bed. Soul noticed with a growl that the sheets were stained with her blood, and the bruises covering her body were larger than he'd originally noticed. Rushing to her side, he stooped to gather her to him and hold her to his chest. She was shivering all over as if freezing, and her skin was red and puffy wherever his eyes looked. He attempted to pull her to him. Panicked, however, she swiftly shoved him away with a resounding, "No!"

He was taken aback. "Maka...what..."

"Leave me alone, Soul!"

"Maka, it wasn't your fault! He took advantage of you to..."

"You don't know anything! Get the hell away from me!"

Burying herself beneath the covers, she couldn't stop the tears from falling or the whimpers and cries from escaping. He'd never seen her so vulnerable before. He wanted to console her, tell her everything would be all right. But even he wasn't entirely sure that was true. He tried one last time to provide some level of comfort with a hand on her head through the sheets, but she violently pushed him away away with a shout.

"Please, Soul...just go. That's an order."

He couldn't defy his meister's wishes. As he left the White Room to return to his own sanctuary, Soul sent out as many soft caresses and words of comfort as possible over the link to his partner. He wasn't sure if she received them or not. He was too shaken up to attempt reading any feedback she might leave him. He hurried forward to the Black Room. If the demon was there, and he was certain he was, Soul was going to be dishing out one hell of a payback to that son of a bitch. Beginning first with the severing of his dick from his body, then subsequently shoving it down his conniving throat.

* * *

c h a o s v i p e r . t u m b l r . c o m

* * *

Authors note: It's been brought to my attention that Spanish isn't the national language of Brazil. I was not aware of this. Apparently it is Portuguese. While this may be the case, during my time in the country for the Rio Festival five years ago, Spanish was a well-spoken and popular language among the people there. Not only Spanish, but French, Italian, and English, as well. It was very much a cultural hub, and while it may not be the national language, Brazil is bordered by many other Spanish-speaking countries. The people there have an influx of it into their culture. Many may not speak it fluently, but they are exposed to it on a regular basis. Our host family during my class trip spoke primarily Spanish, and even if it isn't the people's language, I felt it would be most recognizable to my readers. However, for technicality's sake, I have changed the language of the vendor harassing Soul into Portuguese to be more accurate. Sorry for any confusion this may have caused.


End file.
